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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928147">Atrus: The Veil Between Worlds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrivelLegion/pseuds/DrivelLegion'>DrivelLegion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Atrus - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dieselpunk, Fish out of Water, Original Fiction, Post-Apocalypse, Steampunk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:02:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27928147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrivelLegion/pseuds/DrivelLegion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Caldus lives in a devastated world. Not so long ago the land of Atrus was ravaged by the flames of war, a war that was brought to a quick and brutal end by the Hronthgar, a massive automated warship that rained death upon all humanity. Caldus now lives in the shadow of the war machine, helping his father harness the mystical power of Æther, the energy that separates worlds from one another. While they seek out a way to save their world and defeat the Hronthgar, a girl from our own world fights off a series of deadly nightmares. Evelyn is afflicted with visions of a horrible war, and every night brings her closer to the edge of her sanity. But one fateful meeting will change her life forever, as the boundaries between her world and Atrus begin to fade.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky was dark, far darker than any Evelyn had ever seen. There was no sunlight, no moon or stars, and yet she could see the broken ground around her. The earth was soft and wet, and her feet felt heavy and sluggish in the mire. She looked about, frantically trying to get her bearings. There was fire to her left, and it cast a horrid flickering light over the world. Thick plumes of black smoke churned upward in obscene columns to join the clouds in blocking out any light but the blazing inferno. Evelyn couldn't see what fed the flames, but she could feel the heat even from a distance. It was boiling, and she recoiled from it as the flames rose ever higher. Her feet caught in the mud, and she fell onto her back. </p><p>Even as she landed the scene shifted. Strange figures emerged from the smoke, silhouettes of men clad in long coats and armor plates. Swords, pikes, clubs, and bayonetted rifles clashed as the figures met one another. Evelyn heard screams, both battle cries and the agonized shrieks of the wounded as the shadowy armies began to duel in the smoke. Gunfire erupted from every direction, and the air hissed with hot lead. Evelyn covered her ears, but could not block out the sounds. She shut her eyes tight and screamed in fear, but her cries were lost in the noises of war.</p><p>There was a sharp crack, like the breaking of a branch, and something heavy fell in her lap. She opened her eyes and looked down to find a body lying across her. It was a boy, no older than thirteen, his eyes staring blankly at the black sky above. Blood ran from his mouth in a thin river, staining the collar of his gray wool uniform. Evelyn shook him, taking his youthful face in her hands, but even as she did he faded away, leaving her arms empty. She gasped and struggled to rise, desperate to flee this battlefield that had suddenly appeared before her, and found herself confronted by a man. He stood hunched with his feet firmly planted, the stance of a ready warrior. In his hand he held a shovel, its serrated edge sharp and dripping with blood. His face was hidden beneath a mask and a steel helmet, and he wore a beige coat with unfamiliar markings on the sleeves. Evelyn held up her hands in surrender, but the man did not lower his weapon. He charged her, his arm raised as he prepared to strike. Evelyn cowered, letting out a strangled sob as she waited for the blow to land, but the strike never came. Instead there was a clap of thunder by her ear, and the man dropped to the ground, clutching at his chest as he writhed in the mud.</p><p>Evelyn turned to see who had saved her, and had only a brief glimpse of the same gray coat that the boy had worn before the ground beneath her began to shake. All around her the earth itself seemed to split apart. Gouts of fire and dirt flew skyward with tremendous force. The shadowy figures were flung around like ragdolls, often in pieces, both sides being obliterated by the deafening barrage. Evelyn fell again, curling up to make herself as small as possible. She hugged her legs against her chest and wept as the constant pounding of the detonations made her ears ring.</p><p>Then it was over.</p><p>Evelyn sat upright in her bed, gasping for air and rubbing her face. She was in her room, safe among her belongings. She strained her ears but heard nothing, and for a moment she thought that the noise had rendered her deaf. Then she heard the rumble of a passing vehicle and sighed with relief. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and crept over to the window, hissing as her bare feet pressed against the cold floorboards of her apartment. Once at the window she peered outside into the early morning light.</p><p>There wasn't much to see. The road that passed by her third floor window was empty, save for one or two early risers. The windows on the opposite building still had their blinds pulled, and the sun had just begun to rise in the east. Evelyn reached over to pick up her phone from the nightstand and check the time. Her lock screen read "6:13 February 4." In seventeen minutes her alarm would sound, signalling that it was time to get ready for work. Everything was normal, exactly as it was supposed to be, and yet Evelyn couldn't shake an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her dream had felt so real, so vivid. She had felt the heat of the fire, smelled the smoke. It was unlike any she had ever had before. Where had it come from? Why could she still recall every detail when other dreams faded from memory?</p><p>Her thoughts were interrupted by her neighbor opening his blinds, and she backed away from the window as she realized that she still wasn't dressed. Embarrassed, she stepped over to her closet and began to gather her things for the day, determined to put the horrible vision as far out of her mind as possible.</p><p>-</p><p>Caldus watched as the sun drifted over the horizon, bathing the clouded sky in orange-purple radiance. The horizon was ablaze with twilight, and the vast waters of the Hurstrian Sea echoed the brilliance of the skies above it, adding a shimmering effect to their beauty. The boy would have liked to see it more closely, but the shattered ruins of Havrah A'duin obscured his view. The blackened stone of once impressive towers stood silhouetted against the sunset, like a forest of wretched fingers rising out of the dark earth to claw at the sky. The sight of it had always filled Caldus with a sense of wondering sorrow, a feeling of loss for something he had never owned.</p><p>The city had been destroyed before he was old enough to remember it, but his father had told him stories of vast streets filled with people of every race and creed. There had been great bridges and deep canals once, teeming with ships and motorcars. Now the rivers were choked with debris and the bridges had collapsed under an unrelenting bombardment. Once Havrah A'duin had been the crown jewel of Atrus, a city of commerce and wealth. Now it was empty. Caldus spotted a flock of birds approaching the city, but at the last moment they turned and changed course. It was not unexpected; not even the animals dared to enter the city now. There was nothing there but death for them. But Caldus knew that the city was a source of resources, as his father had taught him.</p><p>He pulled a hat over his head, covering his short, ruddy brown hair, then tightened the straps on his gas mask. His breathing became almost deafening in his own ears. He had always hated wearing the masks, but he knew that without it he wouldn't live long in the ruins. His father, Turin, approached from behind, leaving the small cottage that had been their home for as long as Caldus could remember. Turin was already wearing his gas mask, and the only sign of his face was his vibrant purple eyes peeking through the lenses. His voice was muffled as he spoke.</p><p>"You're out early, Caldus."</p><p>Caldus smiled, though he knew his father couldn't see it. "I just wanted to watch the sunset," he replied. "I don't get to see the Star very often. I waited until it was already setting before I went outside."</p><p>"Just be careful," said Turin. "Sunlight is-"</p><p>"How it sees us, I know," Caldus finished. "I'm eleven now, you know. I'm old enough to know not to go out in broad daylight."</p><p>Turin's face was obscured, but Caldus could tell by the glint in his hazel eyes that he was smiling. He patted Caldus's head and nodded. "Don't mind me, son. At my age, worrying is about the only thing I'm still good for." He shouldered his pack and pointed toward the ruins. "Let's get moving before it goes completely dark."</p><p>The walk to the edge of the city was long and difficult. The distance was not vast, but the ground between the cabin and the main gate was pockmarked with deep craters and uneven patches of mud. The craters themselves were filled with thick brown water, a result of Atrus's rainy season. There the water would sit and eventually freeze. Caldus had never actually seen the bottom of these depressions, and he often wondered how deep they went. He had suggested sounding one of them, but Turin had said that they were filled with the remains of Havrah A'duin's people and should be treated as grave sites. Instead, Caldus had planted white flowers around their rims, and as he passed quietly by he bowed his head out of respect.</p><p>They reached the city just as the last of the light began to drain from the sky, leaving a deep purple as the two crescent moons, Haskar and Artesia, began to rise in the north. The White Twins had always ruled the night, their orbits locked in perfect sync with the planet's rotation so that they always rose just as the sun fell. Their light streamed down in glittering shafts, illuminating the broken structures below. As a child, Caldus had always feared the looming shadows of the buildings, but in the past few years nature had begun to overtake them. Their harsh lines and sharp crags were softer now, buried under moss and creeping vines, and he found them almost inviting. They now hinted at a world that had once been, rather than one that was still being destroyed around him. It was comforting to know that the earth would carry on, no matter what the Hronthgar tried to do. Perhaps one day the world would be safe enough for him to visit in the daytime, when he could truly see the lost wonders of Havrah A'duin. As it was, there was little visible. The old cobblestone street still dominated the ground, but patches of grass had begun to overwhelm it. The motorcars sat silent and rusted, and Turin had stripped many of their engines for parts.</p><p>Strangely, despite the horrific events that had destroyed the city only a few years before, there was little sign of death. The animals had disposed of the corpses within the first few months, before the bombardments had taught them to stay away. There was still the odd skull or bone here and there, but they too had become part of the landscape as nature reclaimed its territory. All the destruction had been rendered soft and benign, and the city now resembled a place caught in a peaceful slumber.</p><p>Turin stopped and rested against a cracked telegraph pole, catching his breath as he pointed toward an alleyway ahead of them. "That place," he said, "is where we'll go through to the inner city. The Mist has risen since last night, so we must be cautious."</p><p>The walked down the narrow passage, emerging onto a wide thoroughfare on the opposite side. The road sat atop a ridge, winding its way down the slop to where the rest of the city rested below. From here Cladus saw the Mist, the seemingly eternal toxic yellow haze that blanketed the ruins. It completely covered the streets and crept its way up the edged of the towers. The Mist was the reason for the gas masks. Breathing it in was a surefire way to join the rest of the scenery. It burned the lungs and made the blood turn thick, and Turin said that it could kill a man in less than a minute. Fortunately the masks would protect them. So far it had not proven to be deadly to the touch, and so it was safe enough to journey through so long as the airways were protected.</p><p>After another few minutes of descending the ridge they were in the thick of it. They reached the street level and began to make their way through the city. Caldus watched his father walk past the untouched shells of several autocars before he spoke.</p><p>"Father, you're passing up all the parts."</p><p>Turin glanced at him over his shoulder. "We're not looking for parts this time, Cladus. Last time I came here I found something I think you'll want to see." </p><p>He led Caldus down a winding series of streets, following the course of a rushing canal that snaked its way through the central square. They walked for over an hour, stopping to climb over piles of debris and cut through ruined buildings. It was slow and difficult travel over uneven ground. In many places the street simply disappeared, giving way to another crater like those on the outskirts. In other places fallen towers blocked the obvious path, forcing them to take a detour through a broken alleyway. All the while the sound of the canal drowned out any other noise. Caldus heard its water pounding against the stoneworks that guided its path, and took a moment to glance down at it as they passed over a stone footbridge. The canal was dark, but it glittered beautifully in the starlight. At first he thought that he could see silver coins on its bed, but soon realized that it was a solid mass of steel refracting through the canal's uneven surface. Something large and man-made had come to rest there, but what it had once been Caldus could not tell.</p><p>He became so absorbed by the sight that he almost collided with his father as he came to a stop. Caldus looked up and found himself standing before a network of massive gothic columns. They were evenly spaced, each one over a dozen meters tall. Above them was a vast stone roof, and its ceiling was decorated with stunning gold leaf etchings and sculptures. There was writing as well, but in the failing light Caldus couldn't read the words.</p><p>"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Turin, stepping inside the structure. "Hard to believe it's still intact. I used to come here when I was your age, back when the city still lived."</p><p>"What is this place?" asked Caldus, following close behind him.</p><p>Turing turned his head, smiling with his eyes. "The Library."</p><p>Caldus stopped and gasped. The Library was a place he had only heard about in his father's stories. Turin had told him of a place where books covered every wall, of rooms filled with nearly limitless knowledge. Caldus had fallen in love with books ever since he had first learned to read. He had four books on his shelf at home, two of them novels, the other two matching volumes of the Encyclopedia Atrusia. He had read them cover to cover dozens of times each, sinking dozens of hours into them. The idea of a library was one of paradise to him, and as he stared up at the golden ceiling he felt weak in his knees.</p><p>Turin planted a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. The collections are this way, beyond the courtyard."</p><p>Turin led Caldus deeper into the library, the tile floors echoing softly beneath their feet. They passed through a set of large wooden doors, then emerged in a vast room with a high domed ceiling. The dome was broken in many places, and shards of colored glass littered the floor, but that was not what drew Caldus's attention. He instantly spotted the towering bookcases that spanned from wall to wall. There were so many books, thousands upon thousands of them in every direction. His mouth fell open and he drifted forward as if in a trance. He approached the nearest set and rand his fingers gently across the bindings. Dust fell from the books, revealing works organized by their authors in alphabetical order. "Children of Gastheme," "The Draught of Brethti," "Why Does the Gremple Gnaw?" and dozens of other titles that spoke of endless possibilities greeted him as he moved along the shelf. Turin pressed a sack into his hand.</p><p>"Here," he said. "Take as many as you can comfortably carry. I'm going to look for something specific."</p><p>"But..." Caldus breathed, "there are so many of them. How am I supposed to choose?"</p><p>Turin chuckled. "Don't worry. We'll be back again. Just grab a few to start reading, and when you're done you can trade them in for others. That's how a library works, after all." He slapped his back and disappeared into the shadows.</p><p>Caldus turned back to the bookcase, his face beaming. There was so much knowledge here, so many questions that could be answered, and now he could finally know things his father couldn't teach him. He could explore worlds beyond their cabin, beyond the city of Havrah A'duin itself. The thought of it made him giddy with excitement, and he quickly but carefully began filling his bag with as many books as it would hold.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Caldus sat back in his bed, leaning against the headboard as he stared into the pages of a large book he cradled gently in his lap. Two years had passed since his first trip to the Library, and since that time he had read dozens if not hundreds of the weighty tomes. He was absorbed in this one, as he tended to be whenever he read. The book was titled "A Brief History of the Restarthes Empire," but there was nothing brief about it. He was over two hundred pages in, and thus far the author had just barely finished describing the founding of the first city, Imanna. The writer, Shorgath the Elder, had a habit of taking wild tangents, veering off into topics that had almost nothing to do with the history of Imanna, but revealed new details about the world beyond. One moment he would be describing the paving of the streets, the next he would be lost in a rant about the barbaric way in which ancient cultures cut their stones, which might very well last several paragraphs, if not several pages. And Caldus loved every word of it. He drank every last bit of information in, letting it seep into his mind. He had never seen the world beyond Havrah A'duin except through these pages, and the knowledge he gained was intoxicating.</p><p>Currently Shorgath was describing the canals of Imanna in great detail, speaking at length about how the cargo cranes operated down to their individual cogs and pulleys. He was then sidetracked by a sudden urge to discuss the labelling system of the Restarthes Empire, how they would stamp their shipping crates and what each symbol meant, which of course led him to carry on about the Restarthes alphabet and basic grammatical rules. Caldus payed special attention to this section, as he recognized a few of the written characters. They matched the words inscribed on the ceiling of the Library. He pulled out a slip of parchment and a pen to write down the words, but before he could begin he heard Turin call to him from the next room.</p><p>"Caldus?"</p><p>Caldus suppressed a sigh. "Yes, Father?"</p><p>"The Æther circuit still isn't finished," said Turin, coldly. "What are you doing?"</p><p>"I hit a snag while aligning the focus stones," Caldus replied. "I'm taking a break to get my thoughts together."</p><p>"You've been taking a break for almost four hours," said Turin. "The sun will be up soon. You were supposed to finish your work before bedtime."</p><p>Caldus looked down at his watch and winced. He had meant to take a short break, but had completely lost track of time. He slipped the book's silken bookmark between the pages and set it aside, then jumped to his feet and rushed out of his room. Turin was waiting with his arms folded, and Caldus kept his eyes lowered as he stepped into view. The common room was small and dimly lit. There were no windows, and every gap in the cabin's log structure had been insulated with pitch and layers of black cloth. The only source of light was an oil lamp on the table, and the house had been built to keep every ray of it contained. To let light leak out was dangerous, potentially fatal. Caldus glanced up at his father, feeling remarkably small as he saw the shadows the light cast over his sharply formed face. Caldus had often wished that he looked more like Turin, but his father had always said that he more closely resembled his mother, a woman he couldn't remember.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Father," he said, meekly hanging his head. "I wasn't paying attention."</p><p>Turin shook his head, running his fingers through his short red hair. "What was it this time? 'The Legend of Erator,' 'Tales of the Parthian Reach,' or 'The Raising of Yuta Cattle?'"</p><p>"'A Brief History of the Restarthes Empire,'" Caldus answered quietly.</p><p>"That old thing?" said Turin, raising an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you find Shorgath the Elder interesting."</p><p>"Not him," said Caldus. "Not really. It's just... I want to know how things used to be, and he goes into so much detail. I just got lost in it all."</p><p>Turin nodded. "I suppose it's only natural. Here, sit with me a minute."</p><p>"But... the circuit..." Caldus began, but Turin cut him off with a wave of his hand. </p><p>"I'll finish it later," he said, taking a seat at the table. "I only asked you to work on it because I wanted to see how much of my lessons you'd learned. You made better progress than I thought you would. Sit down. I'm going to tell you a thing or two about how the world used to be."</p><p>Caldus did as he was bidden, sitting directly across from Turin. With the lamp between them he could see his father in greater detail. He looked young for his age, his hair still vibrant and colorful. There were no lines in his face, and his shoulders were still broad and muscled, though at the moment they were concealed beneath the heavy gray wool of his old uniform coat. His eyes were gentle and kind, but with a sharpness that hid just behind his gaze, as if he always knew more than he would say. He was smiling, but there was a definite sadness beneath the surface that made it feel empty.</p><p>"The old world was a beautiful place," he began. "But you already knew that from your reading, I'm sure. Back then we would go out in the daylight without a care in the world, just to enjoy the day."</p><p>"You told me you were in the army," said Caldus.</p><p>"I was," Turin replied. "The Atrusian Army used to travel all over the world. I've seen the canals of Imanna myself, you know."</p><p>Caldus's eyes went wide. "What were they like?"</p><p>"Twisted and horrible," said Turin. "The Gaphranites had drained the water from them and filled them with dense coils of barbed wire. They'd built slanted ramps on either side, then covered them with ice. One wrong step and you'd be caught in the canals forever." His expression darkened and his gaze grew distant. "Some of my good friends... they didn't make it to the other side of the city. They're still there, buried in a river of rusting metal." He looked at Caldus intensely, placing his hand in his own. "The world Shorgath wrote of has been gone for centuries, Caldus. We will never see it, you and I."</p><p>"But I can see it," Caldus insisted. "When I read, I can see it in my mind. Couldn't you when you read it?"</p><p>"Of course I could," said Turin. "But I knew it wasn't the same as seeing it with my own eyes. Do you know why I joined the army? It wasn't to serve Atrus, fight for the honor of the nation or for personal glory. It was to travel, to see the world. I wanted so badly to see what I had read about, to finally bring life into what I had taken out of all those books. What I found was a world that was darker, crueler, and more hideous than I could have ever imagined." He tapped the tabletop, like he always did when making a point. "You can read about the past all you want, Caldus. By all means, you should. There are many lessons for history to teach. But you must never let the past distract you from reality. Those books drove me to make foolish decisions, and now I pay the price. Don't let them run away with your mind. A mind is too precious a thing to waste. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"</p><p>"I... think so," said Caldus hesitantly. "I'm allowed to read, but what happens here and now is more important."</p><p>Turin nodded. "There's nothing wrong with escaping into a fantasy once in a while. Idor knows I've done so myself many times. But you must take care of your responsibilities first. Now let's get something to eat and go to bed, alright? We can finish assembling the sling after sunset."</p><p>-</p><p>When night fell once again, Caldus was already up and hard at work. Before him was a tangled mess of gold and copper wiring that he was gradually fabricating into a lattice of carefully arranged circuits. The wires coiled and weaved around one another, occasionally stopping their course to wrap around a small fragment of jade-colored stone. These were the focus stones, and they were the problem Caldus was struggling to solve. Æther flowed through these stones freely, making them anomalous in nature. They powered the circuits of the sling, but without proper alignment the current was intermittent and unreliable. Each one needed to be wrapped in just the right way and held in the perfect position within the circuit. Finding these precise points was a slow and tedious process of trial and error, but something at the back of Caldus's mind had been nagging him about it. The beginnings of a theory were trying to form, but he couldn't seem to clear his thoughts enough to allow it to blossom into anything tangible. There had to be a better way of going about this. His father could align focus stones in minutes using some kind of mathematical formula, but he had refused to teach it to him. Turin wanted Caldus to discover the process himself through experimentation. This was nothing new, of course. Turin had taught nearly all of his son's lessons this way, only giving instruction when absolutely necessary. He reasoned that a lesson learned in practice stuck longer than one learned from someone else.</p><p>Caldus jumped and yanked his hand away from the circuit as one of the stones shorted out, shocking his fingertips. He growled at the rock for hurting him, then chuckled to himself as he realized how silly it was to be angry at a pebble. It was his own fault, really. He had let two of the wires touch one another, creating a short circuit. His frustration was directed more at himself than anything. He had been wrestling with the stones for nearly two hours, ever since the last rays of sunlight had begun to fade from the horizon, and he still hadn't made any progress. He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned, slumping over in his chair. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Turin's hand on his shoulder.</p><p>"Caldus?" he said gently. "You're up early. What are you doing?"</p><p>"I'm trying to finish with the focus stones," Caldus replied. "I've been trying to find the pattern, but all I've got to show for it so far is a few singed fingers."</p><p>"I thought I told you I would finish it," said Turin.</p><p>"You did," said Caldus. "But I wanted to do it myself. I feel like I'm so close to understanding, but I'm missing something. It's here somewhere, staring me in the face, but I just can't figure out what it is. I don't want you to solve it for me. I want to know how to do it." He placed his elbows on the table and rubbed at his tired eyes.</p><p>Turin sighed and shook his head. "You've only just started working with Æther circuits, Caldus. You can't expect yourself to understand the whole concept right away. These things take time."</p><p>"But I'm so close," Caldus insisted. "I can feel it. I want to know!"</p><p>"Caldus," said Turin firmly, spinning his son's chair around to face him. "Don't be in such a rush. You have a brilliant mind, but you're still just a boy. You don't need to know everything right away."</p><p>"I'm trying to grow out of that," said Caldus, turning back to the circuit. "Maybe I don't need to, but I want to."</p><p>"Being a boy is nothing to be ashamed of," said Turin. "I was also a boy once, you know. There will come a day when you'll look back on your childhood and wish you could go back to it. Enjoy it while it lasts."</p><p>"What's to enjoy?" asked Caldus sourly. "All I can do is sit around not knowing things. I'm tired of being ignorant. I want to learn everything there is to learn."</p><p>"So do I," said Turin. "Do you think I know everything there is to know? Ignorance doesn't go away when you grow up, Caldus. There will always be something you don't know or can't understand." He reached out and gently pulled Caldus's hands away from the circuit. "That's something we should celebrate. It means we can keep learning all our lives. We'll never run out of things to discover. Sometimes not knowing is a blessing. And since you can't know everything, there's no hurry. You can take your time."</p><p>Caldus sighed and rose from his chair. "Alright. I still wish I could figure out how to align the stones..."</p><p>"It's an advanced concept," said Turin. "You're still learning the basics. You have to learn to walk before you can run. Don't worry, we'll get you to that level soon enough. For now, go and eat some breakfast. It's a big night for us. I'll finish the assembly and meet you outside."</p><p>-</p><p>Turin emerged from the cabin grinning from ear to ear. In his hands he held a rock. Caldus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He had tried asking his father questions while he was in this mood before, and he already knew what his answer would be. He would simply tell him to wait and see. Instead he watched carefully as Turin pulled the completed sling from his coat pocket. It was an elegant little collection of junk, a conglomeration of clockwork parts and circuitry no bigger than a bracer. The leather strap mounted to its underside was meant to wrap around the forearm, but Turin fastened it to the stone instead. He set it down on a nearby stump and beamed at Caldus.</p><p>"What do you think?" he asked.</p><p>"Congratulations, Father," said Caldus flatly. "You've successfully created the world's ugliest rock."</p><p>Turin's eyes narrowed, but his smile didn't falter. He waved a finger at him. "Don't get smart with me. Do you realize what this is?"</p><p>"How can I?" asked Caldus. "I've been working on Æther circuits for months with you, but you've refused to tell me what any of them do. For all I know you've been having me build an overdesigned paperweight."</p><p>"Oh, this is so much more than a paperweight, I can assure you," said Turin, running his fingers across a panel filled with tiny switches buried among the wires. He began to press them in sequence, and the sling began to hum with strange energy. "We've been living in the shadow of the Hronthgar's guns for far too long, you and I. Tell me, Caldus, have you ever dreamed of living in a world where we no longer fear the daylight? Have you ever wanted to sit and enjoy a sunrise, or see the orange cliffs of Zatania all lit up like the Festival of St. Imman? Well, I haven't given up hope that one day all that may be possible. Some day we'll send the Hronthgar to the bottom of the sea, and we'll finally be able to live as a man should. The sling is our first weapon, Caldus, and with it we'll sink the Great Ship."</p><p>Turin stepped away from the sling as it's noises rose in pitch and intensity. It sang like a panicked bird, and the stone vibrated as the device began to shake. Suddenly there was a flash of strange light, and the stone and sling vanished. Caldus's jaw hit the ground as he staggered over to the stump. He ran his hands through the space the sling and stone had occupied and found it to be truly empty. Turin watched him with giddy amusement as he started to search around the grass for any trace of the objects.</p><p>"What happened?" asked Caldus breathlessly. "Did it explode? I didn't hear any sound."</p><p>"No," said Turin. "It just moved. Here. Let's go inside."</p><p>Caldus followed his father indoors, shaking his head. "What do you mean it moved?" he demanded. "It just disappeared. Where did it go?"</p><p>"Oh, somewhere." Turin picked up a book off the table and lounged on the sofa, quickly absorbing himself in a novel of the Second Atrusian War or Succession.</p><p>Caldus was becoming frustrated now. He folded his arms and tapped his foot. "For the love of Idor, Father! Why can't you just tell me things? Why do you always insist on trying to be enigmatic? Do you just enjoy being the smartest person in the room?"</p><p>Turin scowled at him out of the corner of his eye. "I won't be spoken to like that. Go to your room."</p><p>Caldus scoffed in disbelief. "What? You haven't sent me to my room since I was eight years old!"</p><p>"And you haven't been this disobedient since then," Turin shot back. "Room. Now."</p><p>Caldus opened his mouth and closed it, biting back the retort he wanted to say. He clenched his fists and stormed off to his room. Fine, he thought. If Turin didn't feel like being informative, then he would find someone who did. He pulled the book by Shorgath the Elder from his shelf and laid down on his bed. As he leaned back to rest his head on his pillow he felt something odd. The pillow was taller than usual, and it felt firmer than it had the night before, as if something solid was underneath it. Puzzled, Caldus reached under his head to see what it was, and his eyes went wide as he pulled out a stone, the sling still wrapped around it. He sprang up from the bed, all of his frustration and anger forgotten, and rushed out into the sitting room.</p><p>"Father!" he cried. "It's here! It moved under my pillow! I found it!"</p><p>He stopped himself as he saw Turin staring back at him. His expression was stern, but after a moment he smiled. He looked Caldus up and down, then began to laugh. Caldus felt his face turn red, and he suddenly felt very foolish.</p><p>"You did that on purpose," he said accusingly.</p><p>"Of course I did," Turin replied. "You should've seen your face!"</p><p>His laughs were cut short as Caldus dropped the heavy stone onto his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Turin gasped for air as his son turned away and marched back toward his room.</p><p>"W-wait!" Turin sputtered, still laughing between strained breaths. "Don't you want to know how it works?"</p><p>"I've got a few theories," Caldus replied, his voice short and cold. "I'm sure you'll tell me once it's convenient for you. Right now I'd rather learn something from Shorgath. He's got one quality that makes me prefer him over you."</p><p>"And that is?"</p><p>"He's dead."</p><p>"Oh, come on!" said Turin, still chuckling. "Don't be like that. It was just a bit of fun." But Caldus was already gone. Turin shook his head, heaving the stone off his stomach and gently setting it on the floor beside him. He shook his head and went back to his reading, grinning to himself. "I thought it was funny," he mumbled.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evelyn sighed inwardly as she scanned her customer's items. The woman before her was a regular. Once a week she would march into the store and gather a shopping cart full of cat food bags and cans. Her gray hair was wild and greasy, framing a scowling face of wrinkled skin. Her fingernails were more like claws than anything, and they had a nauseating habit of clicking loudly against anything they touched. But what struck Evelyn the most every time she encountered the woman was the smell. She was rank with the scent of cigarette smoke and cat urine, the kind of odor that would worm its way up one's nose whether they held their breath or not. Evelyn finished scanning the cat food at long last and handed over the final bag, then struggled to contain her annoyance as the crazy cat lady, oblivious to the long line of impatient customers that had gathered behind her, slowly dug a checkbook out of her handbag and began to write out the total in flowing cursive.</p><p>Evelyn's patience was rapidly running thin. She had barely slept the night before, as the same nightmares had kept her awake. The battle played out again and again, each time showing her some new horror of a war she couldn't recognize. She had seen men cut apart by machine gun fire, boys no older than twelve choking to death in clouds of gas, and soldiers entangled in hideous nests of razor wire. Every time she drifted away, the war would follow her, and she would wake up sobbing and sweating. Her green eyes were now bloodshot and red-rimmed, and her raven hair had become disorderly as she lost the will to brush it out in the mornings. In her school days she had been considered beautiful, but now she felt more like a bedraggled crow than the homecoming queen she had once been. A part of Evelyn missed those days, back when the most she had to worry about was the score on her next math exam, what to wear to the basketball game, or whether Brandon had noticed her staring at him. She'd been someone important in high school, but now she was just the girl who scanned the cat food.</p><p>The lady finally handed Evelyn the check, then snatched up her bags and rushed out the door, not even bothering to wait for the register to process her payment. Evelyn didn't try to stop her; the checks never bounced and she was happy to be rid of her.</p><p>The rest of the shift passed quietly, and when she finally collapsed into a chair in the employee lounge to rest before heading home she groaned and rubbed at the back of her neck.</p><p>"Hard day?" asked Tina, sitting down beside her.</p><p>Evelyn opened one eye to glance across at her. Tina wasn't a close friend, but the plump little redhead was pleasant enough for conversation. "Not really," Evelyn replied. "Just long. I didn't get much sleep last night."</p><p>Tina winked and nudged her arm. "Was he at least worth it?"</p><p>Evelyn blinked hard, confused for a moment, then she rolled her eyes. "No, that's not what I meant. I was by myself last night. I've been having... nightmares, I guess."</p><p>"You guess?" Tina echoed, her smile fading away into a concerned expression.</p><p>"It's the same one almost every night," said Evelyn. "Well, not exactly the same. It's like... I don't know... It's kind of like seeing the same movie scene from a different camera angle."</p><p>"You poor thing!" said Tina. "How bad are they? What do you dream about?"</p><p>Evelyn sighed and tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling tiles above her. "I'll spare you the gory details," she said. "I'm stuck on a battlefield, like something out of a war movie. There's soldiers fighting all around me, and when they die..." She shivered. "It's... all so real and graphic. I mean I've never seen someone get ripped in half by an explosion before. I shouldn't know what that looks like, but somehow my brain managed to show it to me in painstaking detail, even down to the smell. It's like no dream I've ever had. It's all so perfectly real, like I'm in another place rather than just asleep. And it's been happening every night for the past month. I'm starting to go a little crazy. I'm at the point where I'm scared to fall asleep." She pinched the bridge of her nose and winced, trying to hold in an exhausted yawn.</p><p>Tina was silent for several moments, clearly unprepared for the weight of what she had just heard. "Listen," she said, her playful tone deserting her. "You need to see a doctor, Evelyn. That sounds really serious."</p><p>"I know," Evelyn replied. "I've got an appointment this weekend."</p><p>"Good." Tina nodded and rubbed her arm. "You need someone to give you a lift home? You shouldn't drive while you're sleep deprived."</p><p>"Thanks, but I'll be alright," said Evelyn. "Besides, I'm meeting someone at the library in about an hour."</p><p>"The library?" Tina echoed. "Who meets up at a library?"</p><p>Evelyn allowed herself a small, tired smile. "Historians."</p><p>-</p><p>Dr. Merlot was a pleasant man. He stood at a modest height, wore simple formal clothing, and carried himself with a firm yet unassuming grace. He was a military historian, and he certainly looked the part. His beard was short and well-kept, his hair brown with traces of gray throughout. A pair of brass-lined glasses rested on his nose, giving him a quite scholarly appearance. His face was artfully creased with shallow wrinkles that granted him a friendly yet enigmatic charm. His sharp blue eyes scanned the pages of a small paperback, never missing a single detail yet holding an amiable merriment within them. He was all at once authoritative and approachable, the perfect picture of a topical expert.</p><p>Evelyn felt somewhat underdressed as she approached, timidly clutching her notebook across her chest. "Dr. Merlot?" she asked quietly.</p><p>Merlot glanced up from his book, smiling as he hurriedly tucked it away inside his coat pocket. "Ah, right on time! I like that. You must be Miss Evelyn. A lovely name for an equally lovely young lady." He extended his hand with a genuine warmth that forced her to return his smile.</p><p>Evelyn accepted his handshake. "Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me," she said. "I've been having a problem that I hope you can help me with. So far the internet hasn't been able to provide me with any answers."</p><p>"You said as much in your email," said Merlot, his smile fading but not fully dissipating. "The internet is a fabulous tool, but it is not infallible. There are several niche topics that require extensive digging to uncover, and Google isn't exactly designed to look beyond what's popular. Now, I'm not a psychiatrist and so I have little knowledge of dreams. Still, I hope I can at least provide some answers on your imaginary war." He released her hand and took a seat at one of the many small tables dotted around the room, motioning for her to do the same. "I must say that I'm greatly intrigued by what I've heard so far. You seem to have no knowledge of military equipment, tactics, or history, not even from films, and yet you almost perfectly described the battlefields of the First World War."</p><p>"I've been trying to find as much information as I can," said Evelyn. "I've read some theories about genetic memory, the idea that the experiences of your ancestors can sometimes live on in your genes. The problem is that my background isn't easy to trace."</p><p>"That's the case for many Americans," Merlot replied. "I'm not familiar with the theory myself, but I suppose it sounds plausible enough. So you think you might be related to someone in your dream, and that maybe learning about it will grant you some peace."</p><p>Evelyn shrugged. "It's either that or medicating myself into oblivion," she said. "I'd rather find a solution that doesn't involve copious amounts of drugs."</p><p>"Well then let's not waste any time," said Merlot, folding his hands in front of him. "Can you describe the uniforms the soldiers were wearing?"</p><p>Evelyn set her notebook on the table and flipped to a page near the middle. Dozens of colored drawings and sketches whirled past on the sheets: birds, flowers, insects, and landscapes all beautifully realized with the understated hue that only colored pencils could provide. Finally she reached the page she was searching for, a splendidly detailed rendering of a soldier in a gray wool coat with crimson trim. A muddy steel helmet with a moveable eye shield crowned his head, and a gas mask obscured any semblance of identity, save for a pair of gold thread patches on his shoulders. Belts were hung across his chest, holding a pouch on his right hip and a small spade on his left. On his back he carried a leather pack with a bedroll strapped to the upper flap. His boots were covered with dirt and grime, their leather exterior hidden beneath a set of wrappings that wound up his calves, stopping a short distance below the knee. The soldier carried a rifle and a fixed bayonet, and he stood with it in a smart parade rest stance.</p><p>Merlot took the notebook and studied the portrait for several moments. His smile disappeared entirely, giving way to a scowl of concentration. His brow furrowed as he examined every detail, and his frown deepened the longer he stared at the image. Evelyn watched him intently, nervously fidgeting in her seat as she awaited his conclusion. At length he set the picture down and folded his arms over his chest.</p><p>"First," he said, "I feel I should express how much I enjoy your artistic style. You are very talented, Miss Evelyn. However, this image confuses me."</p><p>"In what way?" asked Evelyn, eager for an answer.</p><p>"Everything in the picture makes sense, and yet none of it does," Merlot replied. "He has a complete set of kit, even some items that most films leave out. The details are fitting as well. Take his helmet, for example. You've drawn it with mud on its surface, and yet there's none on his coat, meaning that he has purposefully muddied his helmet. In the Great War soldiers often did this, smearing grime over their steel equipment so that they wouldn't catch the light and present them as targets for enemy sharpshooters. He's wearing muddees over his boots, as he should be. He's standing in an official stance that most soldiers are trained to adopt. Are you certain you have no knowledge of the time period?"</p><p>"Only what I've read online," said Evelyn. "And I drew that long before I started doing research."</p><p>"There are other details that are less fitting," Merlot continued. "His bayonet doesn't fit the time period. It's triangular, like those of the Napoleonic Era. They were largely phased out by the early twentieth century in favor of multipurpose knife-shaped models. His helmet has a set of eye guards that are atypical, though not unheard of. But the thing that truly puzzles me is his weapon. His rifle is depicted as having two barrels. The one on the bottom is connected to a bolt action mechanism with an undermounted magazine, but the top barrel is connected to a percussion lock, which also explains the presence of a ramrod. It's as if someone's taken weapons from two separate time periods and simply fused them together."</p><p>Evelyn sighed. "So you're saying it's all nonsense?"</p><p>"Not entirely," Merlot replied. "The Great War was a time of martial experimentation. Many prototype weapons were developed, and even today we don't have complete records of what was made. This weapon is odd to be sure, but not impossible. It seems impractical, but..." His voice trailed off.</p><p>Evelyn leaned in closer. "But what?"</p><p>Merlot rubbed his chin and sighed. "It's just a hunch," he said. "But it seems to me that this man is equipped to deal the most amount of damage physically possible. The triangular bayonet was less useful than a later combat knife, but it was also far more nasty. A triangular puncture wound is nearly impossible to stitch up properly, and it is very likely that once stabbed the victim will bleed to death. The rifle has two modes of fire, one for firing quickly and one for inflicting ghastly damage. These types of muzzle-loaders often fired the miniè ball, a .58 caliber round by today's standard. These balls would decimate bone, reducing it to powder. If you were to be shot in the arm with one today, even modern medicine likely wouldn't be able to save you from having it amputated. The gas mask he wears is of an advanced design, and its presence indicates that chemical weapons are a common threat, and his helmet is designed to protect his eyes with tinted lenses, which implies that heavy artillery and flash weaponry may be commonplace as well. Wherever he's from, he's seen the worst that warfare had to offer at the time."</p><p>"But where is he from?" asked Evelyn. "His uniform, what can you tell me about it?"</p><p>"Sadly very little," replied Merlot. "Much like the rest of his kit, it's quite anomalous. His coat colors and button arrangement almost resemble a Ukranian greatcoat, but from a much later period, such as the Cold War. The insignias are completely alien to me. I don't believe I've ever encountered them anywhere in my years of research. And his helmet? It seems to combine elements of French, British, German, and even Italian motifs into one package." He glanced at her with an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm afraid that I'm at just as much of a loss as you are. The kit all makes perfect sense, it all functions, and yet I can't for the life of me think of any examples of it on Earth."</p><p>Evelyn's shoulders slumped. She had already felt exhausted when she arrived, but his words seemed to drain her even further. "I see," she said, her voice pitifully soft.</p><p>Merlot shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure of what to say next. After a moment of awkward silence he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I can't be of more help. The entire thing truly fascinates me. Would you mind if I kept this image? I would like to consult with a few colleagues of mine and get their opinions."</p><p>Evelyn nodded, then lowered her forehead to rest on the table. "I don't know what to do," she said. "If it's all just a fantasy, then why does it always feel so real? Why won't they just go away?"</p><p>Merlot reached across the table and stiffly patted her shoulder. "Now, now," he said, "Don't give up hope. I think this is a problem to take to a sleep specialist."</p><p>Evelyn raised her head and shot him a puzzled look. "That's a thing?"</p><p>"Certainly," Merlot replied. "In fact, one of my good friends from university works as one in Chicago. I know that's a bit of a drive, but I can give you her contact details. Tell her I referred you and she should be willing to help."</p><p>"I will," said Evelyn, forcing a smile. She stood up, ripping the page from her notebook and handing it Dr. Merlot. "Thank you for your time, Doctor."</p><p>Merlot shook his head. "Thank you for giving me something to puzzle over. Before you leave, though, I thought I might mention something. I'm working on publishing a book. It's long, very dry, filled with dates, names, everything casual history students loathe. I was never that good at making my writing enjoyable. I thought adding some illustrations might make the work a bit more palatable. Your style is quite appealing and rich with detail. If you're willing, I think I would like to commission you for a few pieces of artwork."</p><p>Evelyn blushed at his praise, staring down at her feet. "I draw as a hobby. I don't usually show it to anyone, but I'll think about it."</p><p>"Please do," said Merlot, giving her his warm smile once again. "You have my contact details if you decide to accept. I'll warn you that I can't pay much, but I'll try to make it worth your while."</p><p>"Alright." Evelyn shook his hand, thanked him again, then turned and left the library, fighting back tears of despair as she made her way to her car. Once safely inside she let out a deep sigh buried her face in her hands. The meeting had been yet another in a long series of dead ends. Over a month of constant torment had passed, and she was no closer to understanding what was happening to her. She cried quietly for several minutes, the beautiful sunset outside her window filling her with dread. Tonight she would fall asleep yet again. There was no avoiding it. Once more she would be thrust onto that field, forced to watch the horrors of a war she couldn't understand. She shuddered as she started the engine and left the parking lot, turning onto the road and taking the scenic route to her apartment.</p><p>-</p><p>"Somebody help!" Evelyn screamed as she cradled the dying man in her arms. "I need a doctor! Anyone, please!" She pressed her hands down on the soldier's chest, trying desperately to stop the fountain of blood that gushed out of him. He was writhing in agony, calling out words that were muffled by the rubber gas mask. Evelyn reached up and pulled it from his face and found herself confronted by a pair of purple eyes that stared back at her wildly. He gasped, drawing in the air greedily, then choked up a mass of dark crimson fluid. Suddenly he stopped struggling and went quiet, his hand reaching up to Evelyn's face. He touched her cheek, tears pouring down his face as he spoke softly.</p><p>"Oh, Mother!" he whispered, like a weeping child. "Mother, I'm frightened. Don't let them blow out the lights. I'm afraid of the dark."</p><p>Evelyn shushed him, pulling his head against her chest and holding him tightly. Her shoulders heaved as she fought back a fit of sobbing that threatened to overwhelm her. "Shh... It's alright," she said. "You're safe now. Just go to sleep. Mother will see you in the morning."</p><p>The soldier stopped shivering, his muscles relaxing as he sighed his final breath. Evelyn set him down, wishing that he could rest somewhere other than the crater they were huddled in. Murky water nearly filled the hole and the mud beneath her was thick. Every moment she felt herself sinking further. She hugged her knees against her chest and stared blankly at the water. Its surface trembled as the shockwaves of artillery battered the earth. Evelyn wasn't sure how deep the hole was, but she knew it was deep enough to be dangerous. She had seen men fall into crater only to disappear beneath the brown water, never to emerge. Even now she could see the breath of some poor soul stuck in the mire at the bottom bubbling up to the surface. She shuddered as she imagined it. Of all the ways to die, drowning in mud seemed to be the worst she had seen yet. Even so she knew she was safer in the crater than in the melee up above. For the past few weeks she had made a habit of diving into the shell holes the moment she found herself in the battle. There she would hide, wet, cold, and miserable until the morning finally broke. Sometimes the men would take cover nearby, but so long as she sat there and played dead they would usually ignore her. Other times the dead or dying would fall into the pit, and she would be forced to listen to their agonized shrieks for hours. They would often wail like injured children, crying out in a voice no one could hear. It was a pitiful sight that broke Evelyn's heart to see. Some of the soldiers were no more than boys, many of whom had yet to begin reaching maturity. Evelyn had started holding them, trying to give them some semblance of comfort in their last moments. It was draining and utterly gut-wrenching, but she couldn't bring herself to leave them to die alone. The man she had just released was the fourth one that night. The other three lay before her, hands folded over their chests where she had placed them, each one a different size, a different age, a different uniform.</p><p>Another man fell into the pit, but this time he wasn't injured. Evelyn leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, watching through narrow slits in her eyelids. She sat as still as she could, trying her beat to look like a corpse. The man wore a beige uniform without a coat, and he carried a rifle with a knife-like bayonet. He walked up to the first of the four bodies Evelyn had laid out and stared down at it for a moment. Then, to Evelyn's horror, he growled and thrust his blade into its stomach. The body didn't respond, and so he moved to the next, impaling it as he had done before. He stabbed each body in turn, then began to move toward Evelyn. She let her fingers wrap around a modestly sized stone, her pulse racing as he drew near. He pulled his rifle back, then thrust it forward. Before the blade connected Evelyn slapped the weapon away, causing the strike to fly wide. She flung the rock with all her strength, catching the surprised man in the face with it. He cried out in pain, angrily swinging his weapon in her general direction. The bayonet slashed Evelyn's cheek, cutting a deep gash in the side of her mouth. Evelyn screamed in horror as her mouth filled with blood. She groped around wildly, her fingers falling on the spade attached to one of the corpses' belts. She yanked it free and flailed it in front of her, striking her attacker in the side of the neck. The man's head tilted to one side, and Evelyn gasped as she saw that the blade of the shovel had nearly decapitated him. The edge had been sharpened by its previous owner, and her strike had killed her foe. The soldier fell backwards into the water, his body floating to the top as he stared slackjawed at the sky. Evelyn dropped the spade, backing away from her grisly handiwork as she tried not to think about what she had just done. Her face burned with pain from the cut she had suffered, but before she could clutch at it in response she was awake.</p><p>She sat up in her bed, groggy and shaking. It was still dark outside, but she'd had enough of sleep for the night. She pulled herself out of bed and silently tiptoed her way to the bathroom, eager to wash her face clean of the tears still streaming down her cheeks. She flipped the light switch and winced as the lights burned her eyes, then stepped in front of the sink. </p><p>She nearly fainted when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her cheek was covered in blood that poured down from a deep wound in her face, a gash that looked like a sudden, violent cut. The bayonet in her dream had left a mark in that exact place. She gasped as she suddenly felt the pain shoot through her. The wound was still there! She slumped to the floor, her hands shaking as she fumbled for her cell phone, horrified as she faced a new realization. Her dreams didn't just feel real; they were real. If her dream had hurt her tonight, then her next could just as easily kill her.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Caldus sat on the stump outside the cabin and cast his gaze across the field of grass before him. It was a fair distance to where the forest began, and from the ridge the house rested upon he could see the empty expanse that stretched almost to the outskirts of Havrah A'duin. The meadow had once been a beautiful place, filled with flowers and small creatures. Now it was a jagged mess of rolling mounds that rimmed the remains of old shell craters. The animals had long since deserted the place, retreating to safer climes further from the coast and the dreaded guns of the Hromthgar. Of course, nowhere was truly safe from the ever-watchful eye of the Great Ship. At least once a day Caldus would hear the thunder of distant cannons, and he could not help but wonder what target the machine had found to shoot at. Had it been other men like him, scrambling in the dark to avoid its gaze? Were there more survivors who had also become creatures of the night? Or was it nothing more than an unfortunate rodent that had wandered into a patch of light? He had often wondered about the rest of the world, how many others may have survived the Bombardment. He thought about other people and what it would be like to meet them. His entire life had been just him and his father, and all that he knew of the outside world came from his books. Caldus had read all about humanity. He had read stories of heroes, villains, great leaders, greedy despots, and angry peasants. He had seen acts of kindness and of evil, knew that the nature of man was caught somewhere between the two extremes, yet he had never truly met another person.</p><p>Caldus tucked away the book he had been reading, slipping it back into his pack. It was a romance novel, poorly constructed and paced, yet it possessed an alluring quality. Caldus was now seventeen, and there were forces at work within him that he couldn't understand. There was an unspoken yearning for companionship, a desire to find love at any cost. He had never seen a woman beyond the illustrations in the books, and so his imagination often ran away from him. Turin had often caught him staring at a wall, a faraway look in his eyes as he daydreamed, only to snap himself back into reality as the sad truth returned to him. Caldus knew romance was dead. It had died the day the Hromthgar destroyed the world. Even if women still existed somewhere on the continent, he would most likely never meet them. It was a fact that had driven him into depression recently, robbing him of his motivation. He felt a deep loneliness that refused to abate, a sense that he was only half a person who could never be complete. Turin had told him that it was a natural part of growing up and that he would outgrow these feelings, but Caldus was unconvinced, and so he had found romance novels to be his new guilty pleasure. It embarrassed him to think of reading books that were so often of poor quality and no real substance, and yet they offered him an escape into an experience he could never have for himself. Even so, he would never let Turin catch him reading one. The teasing his father would subject him to would be too much to bear.</p><p>Caldus sighed and shifted to find a more comfortable sitting position. He had been posted on the stump for nearly three hours as he waited for Turin to return from his excursion. Now the first rays of the morning were beginning to appear behind the spires of Havrah A'duin. In a few moments it would be unsafe to be outside, and he would be forced to retreat into the safety of the insulated cabin. Caldus wasn't worried; Turin had spent multiple nights in the ruined city before. Still, he had hoped that his father would return that morning. He rose from his place and stretched his back muscles, deciding to call it a night and get some rest. Tomorrow would be another long night of tending to the garden. The hrobasa was nearly ready for harvest, and Caldus would need to start storing them for the winter. Snow would start falling in a few weeks, and food would be much harder to come by.</p><p>As he turned to head back to the cabin he paused, certain that he had heard a footstep behind him. He smiled and looked over his shoulder as Turin strode briskly to his side. The sling around his forearm still glowed from the Æther reaction that had pulled him across space, and in the cold autumn air it gave off faint wisps of steam. Caldus was about to call out a greeting, but then he caught the expression on his father's face. His features were dark, even in the twilight. Turin was seldom stern, and only in the most dire of circumstances did he lose his ever-present smile. Something terrible must have happened. Turin's hand landed on Caldus's shoulder, clasping it firmly. He pulled his son closer, forcing him to face him directly.</p><p>"What's wrong?" asked Caldus.</p><p>"The city isn't safe anymore," Turin replied. "Is your sling finished?"</p><p>"I finished it over a month ago," said Caldus. "You were there."</p><p>"Right." Turin shook his head and tightened his grip. "Go and get it, then fetch my rifle. I need to show you something."</p><p>Caldus blinked, hardly believing his own ears. His father hadn't touched his old war rifle in years. "Show me something? In the city?" he asked.</p><p>Turin nodded vigorously.</p><p>Caldus shook his head. "We can't do that," he said. "The sun is almost up!"</p><p>Turin looked up at the sky with gaping eyes, as if just noticing it. He muttered a curse under his breath and pushed Caldus toward the cabin. "Get inside. We'll go tomorrow. Hopefully they won't come out this far."</p><p>"Who?" asked Caldus. "Did you meet someone out there?"</p><p>"No," Turin replied. "I met something. We have a new enemy to hide from now. Tomorrow I'll show you what I mean."</p><p>Caldus led his father into the cabin, asking no further questions. He knew better than to press Turin when he was in such a state.</p><p>-</p><p>Turin pressed his back against the wall, creeping slowly along the edge of the old brick building to peek around the corner. With slow precision he trained the barrel of his weapon on the street and scanned the area ahead. Caldus stood just behind him, barely daring to breathe. In his quivering hands he nervously held Turin's pistol, a tool he had never dared touch before. It felt so heavy and cold in his grip, and he could sense the potential power that it carried. He looked at his father, and in the back of his mind knew that with a simple careless act he could end Turin's life. The gun was an instrument of death, something Caldus couldn't understand the purpose of. Having lived with such an intense longing to see another person, the idea of killing appalled him. His stomach churned as he imagined Turin's lifeless body lying on the cobblestones and himself standing over the corpse with the smoking weapon in his hands. He shivered, nearly dropping the pistol.</p><p>Turin moved out of cover and gradually crossed the street. His boots fell silently as he swept every angle with his rifle. His movements were smooth and catlike, graceful even, the result of his years of combat experience. There was a look in his eyes that Caldus had never seen before, like those of a completely different person. They were narrowed, yet wide enough to take in everything while ignoring all distractions. He strode about like a predator hunting down prey, keeping his body low to the ground and his weapon at the ready. After a moment he raised himself up and waved to Caldus.</p><p>"It's clear," he said, still searching the ruins ahead. "It must have moved on."</p><p>"What are we looking for?" asked Caldus as he moved beside him. "What did you see last night?"</p><p>"The Hromthgar has developed something new," Turin replied. "I don't know much more than that. That's why I came back. I need to know what we're up against." He relaxed his hold on the weapon and lowered the muzzles.</p><p>Caldus started to reply, but cut himself off as the sound of a distant thump drifted across th city. Turin froze and strained his ears, every muscl tensing. The noise was followed with a low humming, like the rumble of an arcane engine. The hum turned into a whine, then a whistle as it grew steadily louder. Caldus sprang back into the alleyway and shouted to Turin.</p><p>"Shell!"</p><p>Turin dove after him and threw himself to the ground, hurriedly piling rocks and debris over his body to hide himself. Caldus grabbed hold of a crumbling piece of wall and pulled with all his might. The old mortar turned to dust and the bricks rained down onto the ground. Caldus buried himself under them, barely able to pull on his gas mask and hide before the shell landed. The ground trembled as an impossibly large mass of steel slammed into the street. Caldus groaned as the bricks bounced upward only to crash back down upon him, nearly knocking him senseless. Through gaps in his makeshift hiding place he saw the shell, and stared in awe at the strange machine. Turin had told him about them, how the Hromthgar fired them from its massive cannons, hurling them across entire continents to cover them with deadly gas. They were cylindrical with a conical tip, the pointed end of which was now buried in the cobblestones. It was nearly twenty meters long, and almost as wide, a metal obelisk decorated with strange gilded runes that whirled around like clockwork dials. It clicked and spun for several moments, then went still. Hatches sprang open on the sides, and Caldus watched for the gas to come pouring out as Turin had described. Instead there was a loud clank from within the shell, and a metal boot stamped down onto the street, followed swiftly by another. The figure that emerged was strange, resembling a statue of a man. It had muscles, a face, even a placid expression sculpted into its body. Its eyes were blank and lifeless, yet they glowed with an eerie blue light. A second figure emerged from another hatch to stand beside the first, then another, until each of the ten openings had deposited one of the strange creatures. They slowly spread out, casting their gaze over the ground. They walked slowly, taking long, confident strides. Their glowing eyes cast azure beams over the ruins, like blue torches. Caldus kept perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe. He knew the sight of Æther, and he could tell that these walking statues were powered by it. Given their searching behavior and the strange light in their eyes, he guessed that they were communing with the Hromthgar directly, granting it a clear view from across the world. If one of them were to spot him, the Ship would know that men still lived in Havrah A'duin.</p><p>The machines searched the street for over an hour, scouring every inch of the ground. They left the alleyways alone apart from the occasional glance. After what felt like an eternity they left one by one to make their way across the city. Turin slowly pulled himself free of his pile of rubble, rose to his feet, and moved to the street with silent steps. It took Caldus longer to join him. His legs had fallen asleep, and now they stung him with thousands of invisible needles as he limped after his father.</p><p>"What were those things?" he asked.</p><p>"Automatons," Turin replied. "Metal men. Back when I was in the Army there were rumors about them, a project the Atrusian development teams were working on. Nobody knew much about it, and what little they did know was all theoretical, but the idea was to phase out regular troops in favor of synthetic substitutes. At the time we were getting desperate. Most of the Army was made up of boys and old men. They'd been recruiting unfit soldiers for years. It was all that was left, and then even they began to run out. The project was never finished; the Hromthgar mutiny happened before they could complete it. Looks like the Ship has found a way to perfect the designs."</p><p>"It's a sound concept," said Caldus. "If they can survive being fired by artillery, then they could be deployed anywhere in the world within a matter of minutes. Battle lines would become irrelevant, fortresses would be rendered obsolete."</p><p>"Sanctuary's could never truly be safe," Turin finished. "The city isn't safe anymore, not with those things patrolling the streets. We'll need to sling ourselves where we want to go from now on."</p><p>"Isn't that just as dangerous?" asked Caldus. "We still don't know what the long-term effects of exposure to the Ætherium are."</p><p>"It's a lot safer than getting shelled by the Hromthgar," said Turin. "It's a risk we'll need to take if we want to stand a chance of bringing it down. Come on, let's start walking back. We're close enough to the outskirts that we should be safe."</p><p>Caldus followed closely as Turin withdrew from the street and back into the alleyways. They walked on, gradually crawling their way toward the edges of Havrah A'duin. It was slow going, as the impact of the shells had created new obstacles from the debris of the crumbling city. Caldus's mind began to wander as they walked. He thought of the horrid machines chasing after him, their glowing eyes searching for something to destroy. He kept glancing over his shoulder, half expecting to see one of the metal monsters staring at him from one of the blackened windows of the building around him. He shuddered with a suppressed horror, then determined to take his mind off the subject.</p><p>"Father?" he asked quietly.</p><p>"Yes, Caldus?"</p><p>He hesitated, taking an extra second to form his question. "What was Mother like? You almost never talk about her."</p><p>Turin kept walking, but turned his head to glance back at him. "What's brought this on?" he asked.</p><p>"I just... thought it was odd," said Caldus. "In stories it always seems like husbands and wives are obsessed with one another, always talking about each other to anyone who will listen, but you never do. Besides..." he paused to clear his throat nervously. "I've never met a woman before. I'm just wondering what they're really like."</p><p>Turin sighed deeply, his shoulders visibly sagging. "I suppose this was bound to happen. I had noticed the hair growing on your chest for the past few years. I told you about them before, didn't I? I explained the differences and all."</p><p>"Yes," said Caldus. "You explained it like an excerpt from Padral's Encyclopedia Biologica. I'm not talking about body parts or their use. I want to know what they were like, how they looked, or how they acted. What was Mother like?"</p><p>"Your mother..." Turin began. He gazed upward for a moment as he struggled to find an answer. "Your mother was beautiful," he said at length. "You got her eyes, you know. They were so dark, like looking into the sea at nighttime. She was quiet, gentle, sweet, a little stubborn." He chuckled. "She hated pafluto music more than anything else in the world, couldn't stand it when I practiced in front of her. She used to throw me out of the house and make me play it in the street."</p><p>"You play the pafluto?" asked Caldus in disbelief.</p><p>"I used to," Turin replied. "Not very well, though. I... haven't touched one since the war. I can't bring myself to try." He sniffed and shouldered his rifle. "It's funny, the things that you end up missing about someone once they're gone. I used to get so bitter when she'd reprimand me over the music. Now... I wish I could hear her nagging me again. But I know that if I play the pafluto now she won't come along to stop me like she always used to. It just wouldn't feel right."</p><p>Caldus nodded slowly. "You must have loved her a lot."</p><p>"She was everything to me," said Turin. "We grew up together, always inseparable. My whole life, I couldn't imagine living without her. I married her just as the war was getting started. You were born while I was still deployed."</p><p>"You said she died while I was still an infant," said Caldus.</p><p>"Yes," Turin replied. "And you were lucky to be alive. When the Ghens blockaded Havrah A'duin and shelled it from the harbor, our house was hit almost immediately. By the time I was finally granted leave she'd been dead for over a month and you were being cared for by our neighbors." He stopped walking for a second and cast his gaze up toward the stars. "I never saw her again after I left. We'd said our goodbyes, of course. I fully expected to die in the trenches. But war doesn't just kill the soldiers. I never even considered that she could be killed. When her letters stopped coming I just assumed the mail system was overloaded." He cleared his throat, and as he continued his voice was strained. "I don't talk about her because it hurts, Caldus. I miss her terribly. You can't spend your entire life with someone like that and just move on once they die."</p><p>Caldus slipped his arm around his father's shoulders, embracing him from the side. "I'm sorry," he said. "I sometimes forget that things are harder for you than they are for me. After all, you know what the world used to be like, what we've lost."</p><p>Turin nodded. "Sometimes I still wake up thinking that I can hear her cooking breakfast, humming 'The Long Road to Katran' to herself while washing the dishes, and I'll feel like I'm home again. It's the only time I ever feel truly peaceful. Then her voice fades away and I'm left facing reality. I've never given up, Caldus, not once in all my life. But when those moments hit me and I remember everything I've lost I'm tempted to just walk out into the sunlight and surrender to my fate.” He grunted sharply, as if holding something back, then broke free of Caldus's embrace. “No sense in dwelling on it now, though. Grieving was a luxury we no longer possess. Crying about something we can't change won't fix things, and it only distracts us from the things we can change. I wish I could tell you more about her, Caldus, but the truth is that I've been trying to forget her for years, and I've very nearly succeeded.” He looked directly into Caldus's face, and for the first time in his life Caldus thought he saw the beginnings of tears in his father's eyes. “Try not to think about it. She's gone, and she's not coming back.”</p><p>Caldus nodded dumbly, then followed after him, choosing to keep silent for the rest of the trip home. The answers didn't satisfy his curiosity in the slightest, but he would respect Turin's wishes. He wouldn't have time to dwell on what he had heard, however, as suddenly Turin held up a hand and froze in place. In an instant the rifle was back against his shoulder, and he began slowly scanning the alley. Caldus strained his ears to hear what had disturbed his father. After a few moments he heard something from overhead, a scuffling sound like feet on lose tile. He laboriously turned his gaze upward toward the rooftops and his heart leaped into his throat as he saw a glowing pair of eyes staring back at him. One of the automatons was standing on the edge of the roof, peering over the edge. As soon as it spotted Caldus it jumped into space, descending on the pair like an avenging angel. Caldus cried out with terror, and Turin responded instantly. A shot rang out, then another. Sparks flew as the rounds bounced off the metal man's body, and it landed upright in the alleyway directly between Caldus and Turin. Caldus raised the pistol and fired, but his quivering hands made the shot fly wide and shattered a brick in a nearby wall. The automaton turned toward him, ignoring Turin even as he fired another shot into its back. It's mouth curled into a horrific leer, and it took a step forward, then opened its steel jaws, turned its face toward the sky, and let out a piercing shriek. The noise was overwhelming, louder than anything Caldus had ever heard before. He almost dropped the pistol as he clamped his hands over his ears, and the effort did nothing to dampen the agonizing sound. The machine stopped screaming and then lunged forward with impossible speed, its hand clamping around Caldus's throat and lifting him off his feet. Caldus clawed at its hand to no avail, then started to panic as its grip tightened. In a moment it would crush his neck. He pressed the muzzle of the pistol against the automaton's skull and fired. For a second its grip slackened as its head snapped back, then forward again showing no signs of meaningful damage.</p><p>Turin roared as he charged the machine, swinging the butt of his rifle like a club. The weapon slammed into its shoulder, and for a moment its fingers went limp. Caldus pulled himself free and fell to the ground, gasping for air. Turin hit the automaton again, this time bringing the rifle down on the top of its head. Its left arm swung backward, catching Turin in the chest and sending him flying into wall. He slumped to the ground, stunned. Suddenly a new sound thumped in the distance, a sound that made Caldus's blood freeze in terror. He knew that sound, had been taught his entire life to fear it above everything else. Somewhere in the distance, in the vast expanse of the sea, the Hromthgar had just fired one of its cannons. In a few seconds the shell would land, obliterating everything in the area. Running would do them no good. Turin staggered upright, calling out to Caldus even as the automaton marched toward him.</p><p>“Caldus! Sling home, now!”</p><p>Caldus obeyed, rapidly typing the coordinates into the sling's control panel. He raised his hand and slammed it down on the activation switch, then braced himself for the sickening lurch. The world around him faded, everything seeming to flow away into the distance at incredible speed, then a swirling vortex of blue surrounded his body. He felt himself being stretched, or perhaps crushed (he could never tell precisely which), then the azure haze gave way to a stunning blackness, with only the cerulean stream of Æther to light his way. The river of energy wound away before him, stretching for impossible distances before disappearing into eternity. This was the Ætherium, the eternal stream of energies that connected every time, thing, and place to one another. It was this strange ethereal purgatory that Caldus and Turin used to traverse the world. The sling pulled them into it, then guided them to the point in the stream that matched their intended destination. The strange sensation of weightlessness had always nauseated Caldus, but even so the experience of sailing through reality itself was one that eternally fascinated him. He could see thousands of small tributaries branching off of the Æther's primary stream, each one a potential reality, perhaps an entirely different world. Then there was the more disturbing sight that made travel through the Ætherium as harrowing as it was enthralling. In the center of the stream floated a massive orb. The Æther twisted around it and was continually absorbed by it. Tendrils of lightning shot out from the globe, striking random points in the stream and sparking with terrifying energy. Caldus knew what the tempest-riddled sphere represented, and as the sling carried him closer he felt incredibly small. The orb was the Hromthgar, forever pulling in Æther from the stream to sustain itself as it carried out its eternal hunt. The bolts that arced out from it was its strange intelligence searching for life, trying to rip apart reality itself to find its prey. Caldus shivered, but knew that the sling would protect him from the Ship's gaze. It pulled him toward his destination, the single point within the stream that coincided with the little cabin outside Havrah A'Duin. He braced himself for his reemergence into the material world, but at the last moment something changed. A small, delicate thread of Æther lashed out at him from the stream, tangling itself around his wrist like a rope. For a moment it pulled at him, and Caldus hissed as the pure energy seared his skin. He tried to free himself from it, nearly panicking. This had never happened to him before. Not once had the stream ever reached out for him. He felt the energy rush through him like an electric shock, and for a moment his vision filled with a strange image. He stared into a pair of green eyes, and for a moment he had the impression of a face. Then, just as suddenly the thread released him and he tumbled out into reality.</p><p>The landing was rough, but Caldus was unhurt as he dusted himself off. He checked his wrist, but it showed no sign of the burns he had sustained. He shook himself, wondering if he had imagined the whole thing. The image of the eyes still stared into him in his mind. The distant sound of the shell landing in the city brought his attention back to the present, and as the ground beneath him began to quake he saw a massive ball of flame and earth rise hundreds of meters into the air. For a moment his heart sank. Turin had been there, still fighting off the automaton on his own. Had he managed to sling away in time? His question was answered a moment later as the familiar blue rift opened up beside him. Turin emerged from the tear in realspace with his clothes torn and his face bloodied. The rifle in his hands was broken in half, the steel barrel bent almost double. He slumped down to his knees and breathed a sigh of relief as Caldus moved to his side.</p><p>“That was cutting it awfully close,” said Turin.</p><p>“Are you alright?” asked Caldus.</p><p>Turin closed his eyes and nodded. “Damn thing nearly smashed my skull in,” he said. “It grabbed hold of me, tried to hold me in place so I couldn't escape the shell. Sacrificed itself just to kill me.” He took a deep, heaving breath. “From now on we use the sling to traverse the city. Walking is far too dangerous.”</p>
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